And The Dish Ran Away With The Spoon
by Limelight
Summary: One day Wes Janson woke up and decided he wanted to save the world. [Mon Mothma Janson]


**Disclaimer: **Oh, come on.

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**Hi there everyone. I no longer have writers block on TNQLL! Woohoo! Expect the next chapter sometime during this week. **

**As for this, well…**

**Yes, I absolutely adore this couple. Adore, almost obsessively. This isn't in _Assortments_ because, well, it just didn't fit. Consider it an AU. I really hope you enjoy it.**

**Oh, and this is dedicated to **_Tinuviel Undomiel_ and _Nerwen Aldarion_, **because they amuse me endlessly and because they wanted more Mon Mothma and Janson.**

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**And The Dish Ran Away With The Spoon**

-

'The thing is,' says Janson to Supreme Commander Mon Mothma, General Carlist Rieekan, and General Jan Dodonna. 'I've found a problem with the inner workings of the Alliance.'

The three look at him blankly. (Janson being concerned with the Alliance inner workings is akin to the thought of Darth Vader keeping kittens.)

'It's a huge problem,' Janson continues. 'Colossal problem. You see,' he pauses, 'we don't spend enough time together.'

There is a beat.

Mon Mothma is the first to regain speech: 'I fail to see how this is a problem with the Alliance's inner workings, Janson.'

'I fail to see how this is a _problem_,' Dodonna huffs.

Janson goes on unfazed. 'Now, normally we would all be separated into different quarters and I would never see you-'

The most recent base evacuation has left the Alliance, though mostly unscathed, without a building to their name (they are also sans holes, hovels, and other such h-words). The soldiers have been forced to camp out until the construction of the new base is finished.

'Ah,' says Rieekan. '_Now_ I remember why I liked having walls so much.'

'And doors,' Mon Mothma adds. 'With locks.'

'-But,' Janson smiles, 'since there are no walls _here_ we can spend more time together.'

'Do you think they would build faster if I offered them the remaining Alliance funds?' asks Dodonna.

-

'I've figured something out.' Janson smiles happily, hooking his arms around the necks of Rieekan and Dodonna, causing the latter to spit out some of his soup. 'Even though there are no walls to separate us we divide ourselves automatically.' He gestures to the rebels assembled to eat their carefully rationed provisions (with much swearing and the occasional threat to the rationers' mothers). 'It's almost like there's an invisible force field keeping the General's and pilots from mixing.'

'Darn, you've discovered our secret.' Mon Mothma looks up from her rather alarmingly grey soup. 'Though I believe that this force field prefers to go by the name _military rank system_ in the more elite circles.'

'I _know_,' Janson nods appreciatively at her. 'That is my point.' He plops down on the grass by her feet, putting his hands behind his head.

'What point? The talking force field?' says Rieekan.

'The military rank system is your point?' says Dodonna.

'No, no.' Janson selects a piece of grass to chew on. 'We are living,' he looks around at them, 'in a… _caste system._'

'What _are_ you talking about?' asks Mon Mothma, shifting the hem of her Council robes away from him.

'The military rank system is not a caste system.' Dodonna says, apoplectic.

'Spit that out,' says Rieekan. 'You don't know where it's been.'

'Someone needs to over-throw the corrupt system that labels us all.' Janson says happily. 'People need to see that rank means nothing.'

'I never though I'd hear a soldier say that,' Mon Mothma says faintly.

'There needs to be more contact through the ranks,' Janson continues. 'We should be the ones to do it.' He looks around eagerly.

'We?' says Rieekan.

'Can't you go off and break the rank system with people from your own rank?' says Dodonna.

'I would think that the obvious answer to that is no.' Janson raises an eyebrow at the Generals. Mon Mothma almost smiles.

-

'So,' in the dark Janson stumbles over the slumbering figures of Generals Rieekan and Dodonna. 'I thought I'd come bunk up with you guys.'

Mon Mothma makes a very un-Supreme sound and rolls over to face him. 'What.'

'Breaking the caste system, throwing off oppression, any of this a-ringing a bell?' Janson lies down on the grass beside her. 'Could you spare a blanket?'

'No.' She squints at him through the dark. 'Did you lose a bet?'

'No bet.' He shifts his weight. 'Just the spirit of harmony driving me to make the galaxy a better place.'

'By causing pandemonium and mass chaos in the one non-corrupt organization left in it?'

'Aren't we pessimistic?' He takes off his jacket and sticks it behind his head.

She exhales loudly. 'Fine, have it your way. But Janson, so help me, if you make one noise the _spirit of harmony_ will not save you.'

'It's moments like these, ma'am, that make me fear the enemy a lot less.'

There is quiet for all of four time parts. Then-

'Janson, _what_ are you doing?'

'Nothing ma'am,' Janson pauses, poised precariously over Dodonna. 'I just thought I'd borrow some of their blankets.'

-

'Janson!' Dodonna roars, waking in what must be record speed when the pilot steps on his hand.

-

'I think,' says Janson, 'that maybe I should break the caste system with you.'

'Me?' Mon Mothma looks sceptical.

'Just you,' Janson nods.

-

Janson explains to Mon Mothma that he has decided that their caste breaking _clearly_ needs more pizzazz. And he's fairly sure, he adds, more alcohol should be involved if previous caste-breakings are anything to go by.

'I think,' says Janson to the Supreme Commander. 'I think that then maybe you should meet some pilots.'

Mon Mothma looks at him as though meeting pilots is akin to death, destruction, and life without a political career (all of which she has already braved upon joining the rebellion, but that's beside the point). 'Why?'

'Well, we can't break the caste alone, now can we?' He grins.

'I thought you said we could, Janson.' She narrows her eyes suspiciously.

'Well ma'am, that was before you insisted no one see us together.'

-

'Hey guys!' Janson shouts, dragging Mon Mothma behind him by the elbow despite very strident - though whispered - objections and a few well-aimed kicks.

'Hiya Wes,' Luke Skywalker bounds over to them. 'Ma'am,' he nods to Mon Mothma.

She wrenches her elbow away from Janson. 'Good afternoon Skywalker,' she forces a smile. Turning to Janson, she says 'Look, I met one, happy? Your caste is broken. I'm going n-'

'Wesy! And, er… Supreme Commander.' Hobbie looks perplexed.

'Excellent,' Janson whispers excitedly in Mon Mothma's ear. 'The system is crumbling to pieces as we speak.' To Hobbie he says 'I don't think you two have ever met in person. Ma'am, this is Hobbie. Hobs, this is my girlfriend.'

'Janson,' Mon Mothma's nails are digging small holes in his arm. 'A word.'

-

'Whatthe hell_ were you thinking, _Janson?_'_ Mon Mothma hisses as they walk away.

'What possessed you to tell them _that_?'

'I'm breaking the caste system, remember?' He rubs his sore arm, looking slightly contrite. '_Obviously _the best way to do it is for a relationship to develop between people of two different castes.'

'Yes, fine, but,' she takes a breath to calm herself. 'Couldn't you go have an affair with a technician or something?'

'Well, yes …but this is much more dramatic, don't you think?' He grins.

'No, I do _not_ think-' she breathes loudly through her nose. 'And aren't you, I don't know, supposed to _ask me_ before you go around proclaiming we're- we're-'

'Involved? In love?'

'Whatever,' she says hastily.

'If I had told you, you would have said no, right?' Janson asks calmly.

'Yes,' she hisses.

'There, that's why I couldn't tell you.' He smiles proudly. She glares, a you-can't-possibly-be-sane-but-my-gods-you-_are_-because-I-remember-checking-your-medical-records kind of glare.

'But we're- we're not-' she spits, unable to bring herself to say it.

'Well yes, but they don't know that.'

She throws up her hands.

-

'Aren't you the least bit surprised?' asks Dodonna.

'No,' says Rieekan.

-

'We should let people see us talking,' Janson tells her, catching her wrist as she walks by him to her bunk. Someone whistles (much to Mon Mothma's chagrin, the Rebellion is a rumour mill with or without walls). 'Well, preferably they should see us kissing, holding hands - romantic stuff. But whenever I mention that you get this face…'

Mon Mothma glares.

'Yeah, that one.' He nods. 'It _also_ makes me fear the enemy a lot less-'

'Janson!' She pulls her wrist away.

'Yes ma'am?'

'_Don't_ talk to me. Ever, ever again.'

'Somehow I'm getting the impression that you're not as keen on over throwing the evil caste system as I am.' Janson says, bemused. 'Though that makes sense; those who benefit from it never seem to want to get rid of it, history has shown-'

'Do you have any idea what this is doing to my reputation?' She spins to face him.

'Well ma'am, I don't think it's really damaging your galaxy-wide status as a wanted felon. Though,' he pauses thoughtfully, 'keep this up and Palpatine _may_ stop hunting us out of disgust.'

-

'Did it ever occur to you that maybe he really doesn't care about the caste system at all?' Rieekan asks.

'I _really _don't like where that sentence is going Carlist.' Dodonna shudders.

-

'Wesy boy, what the _hell_ are you thinking?' Hobbie asks after hearing Janson's scheme to end galaxy wide oppression (or at the very least oppression in the Rebellion). 'You know, it made more sense when I thought she was _actually_ your girlfriend.'

'Did you mix Alliance foodstuffs again?' asks Wedge.

It slowly dawns on Janson that perhaps they don't share his enthusiasm to do good. …Either that or they have possibly been benefiting from the caste system when he wasn't looking.

-

'What did they want?' Dodonna demands. (He and Rieekan have recently taken to flanking the Supreme Commander wherever she goes. 'In case,' says Dodonna, and Rieekan never asks when he uses _that_ tone.)

'Oh, you know,' Janson smiles. 'To tell me I'm out of my bloody mind for voluntarily spending time with a figure of authority, that I'm ruining my reputation. But I told them you had to make some sacrifices when saving the world, and unpleasant company was nothing to me.'

'You- you-' (Dodonna always seemed to lose the ability to speak when insulted – much to Janson' amusement.) Rieekan simply raises his eyebrows, looking from Janson to the Supreme Commander.

'If anyone,' she hisses, 'is out of their minds, Janson, then it's me. For putting up,' she catches his hands in hers, nails biting into him, 'with you.' She kisses him, teeth into his lower lip, mouth shaking with fury.

'Mon-' Dodonna gasps.

'Well,' articulates Rieekan.

'Oh,' says Janson.

-

'Do you suppose that she'll start calling him Wes now?' asks Dodonna.

'Probably not,' says Rieekan. 'Although, he might want to stop calling her ma'am… or they're going to get a quite few questions on the nature of the relationship.'

-

_And the all lived happily ever after. _

_The breaking of the rank system was never attempted again until Princess/Senator Leia Organa and Captain Solo had their whirlwind romance. _

_And they got far more publicity._

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**Well?**


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